This is a turkey story. Or – as some of you may come to decide – a turkey of a story. It began when I was making preparations for Thanksgiving. If you aren’t from the USA, do not draw any conclusions about the holiday from this story. It is atypical to say the least.
Anyway, as I was saying, I was making Thanksgiving Day preparations. I had been upstairs but had come downstairs when I caught Sebastian by surprise. He was up to something. By the way, as you know, that is not unusual. I was just trying to figure out this “unusual” activity.
“Hey Sebastian. Whatcha doin’ there?”
As you can see, Sebastian is holding of the end of a rope.
It was a long rope.
Where does your rope go, Sebastian? A box?
You are pulling around an empty box?
Um. Sebastian? What is that stuff on the floor? My clean kitchen floor?
It looks a lot like bird seed.
And what are these feathers doing here?
Sebastian, that is not an empty box, is it?
What are you hiding in that box?
A turkey! You’re hiding a turkey?! In my kitchen? Do you want to enlighten me on this?
Here’s how he explained things:
This turkey was on the run. On the run from Thanksgiving – well, not Thanksgiving exactly. Just on the run from being Thanksgiving dinner. He just barely got away – he lost an eye in the process. That is why I decided to call him The Pirate Turkey.
I love him. Can we keep him please? He can sleep in my bed with me.
Sebastian, do you know what it will be like to sleep with a turkey? Do you even know how to look after a turkey?
I can do it. He won’t be any trouble at all. Just like me!
Sure, Sebastian. Sure. Okay, your Pirate Turkey gets a Thanksgiving reprieve. Now let’s take a photo so we’ll remember the Thanksgiving you rescued a turkey . . .
as if we’ll ever forget.
Happy Thanksgiving to you all!
From me, Sebastian and The Pirate Turkey